The Billionaire’s Girl

by Fontaine, Bella

  Yesterday had been awful, and I knew I’d sown the seeds for Dad giving Patrick the company.

  He’d fucking give him the whole damn business, and I’d be left with my 33.3% voting rights. I could imagine it now. I’d have to invoke the contractual disagreement clause every time Patrick and I disagreed. We’d be like a jury.

  I didn’t know if I could live like that. I didn’t know if I could live the other way either, having equal voting rights with him. It would be the same, but the other way would mean I’d have no say.

  What a mess. And all my years of hard work would be for nothing.

  Dad didn’t say anything about his own plans yesterday, but I figured if Maurice had found out, Patrick must have known about it. It was a given.

  Dad and Patrick were as thick as thieves, so I doubted he would have kept anything from him on what he planned to do when he retired. I was willing to guess that would happen sometime this year or next.

  I glanced at the files and frowned.

  I still didn’t know what I was going to do, and I knew they’d want to talk about that. It would be a repeat of yesterday’s argument.

  I just wished to no end they had chosen someplace else. Why the New Town complex?

  There was a free nursery run by volunteers, a shelter that was always full to the max with the homeless. Then there was the estate where Billie’s mom lived.

  It was a community that needed help, not be demolished and rebuilt into something else.

  I glanced at the clock on the wall. It was nine twenty-five.

  Better make my way over to Dad’s office before he sent for me like I was some child.

  When I stepped inside, they were ready for me.

  Dad was behind his large mahogany desk, sitting straight in that authoritative manner with his elbows on the desk and fingers steepled.

  The sunlight picked out the streaks of gray in his hair.

  Patrick sat opposite him in the leather office chair with his legs crossed. The look on his face was rigid, just like yesterday. It never ceased to amaze me how much he looked like Dad. Same sharp green eyes that could stare you down and make you feel like shit, and the same demeanor. Both had light blond hair, a complete contrast to the darker features I’d inherited from Mom.

  Patrick straightened up when he saw me.

  “Morning,” I said, taking my place in the seat waiting for me.

  Nerves knotted my insides, but I didn’t allow that to weaken me.

  “Right, I’ve summoned you both here because we need to come to some sort of agreement on this project,” Dad began, ignoring my morning pleasantries. “Chad, I’m still fucking pissed at you for invoking voting rights when this should be a breeze. It’s a simple task but you took it to the next level. It doesn’t require taking a legal stance.”

  “Dad, I’m sorry, but it does,” I spoke up, fucking pissed at him for talking to me like that in front of Patrick, who had a smug expression on his face.

  “Son, look, I’ve been thoroughly impressed with your work over the years, but this is a billion-dollar project that will be a game changer for everyone. It puts us back on the map.”

  “I didn’t realize we were off the map.” We weren’t. We were closing investment deals all over the country on a daily basis. Last time I checked, Arnauds was still a NASDEQ 100 company. That meant we definitely weren’t doing too shabby and absolutely not off the map in any way.

  “You know what I mean.”

  I needed to approach this another way. I couldn’t allow them to meander this the way they wanted.

  “You brought me back here because of my architectural abilities.”

  “Obviously,” Patrick spoke and leaned forward. “Now I wished we’d just hired someone else.”

  “Whether you hired someone else to do it or not, you know you can’t continue a project unless we’re all in agreement,” I shot back. “And I am not. It’s wrong. Neither of you can tell me it’s not. I’m not against building apartments and taking our name and business to the next level. What I’m against is the ethical side of the decision we made. It’s shit.” I enunciated my last words.

  I looked back at Dad, who was already staring at me. “It’s shit, Dad. Don’t tell me it’s not. Why didn’t you give me the full details before?” They’d never answered that question yesterday. Not properly anyway.

  “Details are just details. They weren’t required. We thought you’d be on board.”

  “On board?” I widened my eyes at him and pressed my lips together. “Dad, it was a bad move to choose the Winsor Estate. The media are making us look like a bunch of assholes with no compassion. I looked like an idiot when I spoke about giving to the community when we’re practically destroying one to rebuild it into something we want.”

  “Chad.” Patrick said my name in that irritating manner I hated. “There comes a time in life when you have to be realistic. New Town is a Scumville, and our complex happens to be right there. It never used to be like that way back when, when better people lived there, but it’s like that now.”

  Asshole.

  Better people?

  “What do you mean by better people? Good people live there who don’t cause trouble.” I knew what he meant, but I wanted his racist ass to say it.

  New Town had a big mixture of Black, Hispanic, and Asian people. I swore to God, if he dared say anything even close to what I thought he wanted to say, I’d beat the shit out of him. Right here and now.

  And worse, because Billie was black. We weren’t anything more than merely two people who were attracted to each other, but that was enough for me.

  Dad looked at Patrick with narrowed eyes.

  Our philosophy on non-discrimination was the only thing we had in common, if nothing else. Dad wouldn’t stand for shit like that. But Dad didn’t know Patrick the way I did.

  “Answer the question.” I grit my teeth like I was baring fangs and hissed at him.

  “The news says it all, and we all know the place is full of lowlifes and criminals. Our estate, the whole damn complex, has been turned into a breeding ground for criminal activity,” Patrick pointed out. It was an attempt to save himself and it softened the rigid look on Dad’s face. “Sometimes you have to rebuild to make things better. Winsor estate sits right between the inner city and the city. If we have those luxury apartments, we can expect to see more affluent businessmen filling the area. People who can return the community to the way it used to be.”

  It was bullshit.

  Patrick didn’t give two shits about the community or anything like that. He was in it for the money.

  I returned my attention to Dad. “Was there really no better way? Or no better place?” I asked him.

  “I like the idea, Chad, and it’s a billion-dollar investment we already have buyers lined up for. Hence my eagerness for us to come to an agreement. The press weren’t supposed to find out about the location the way they did. We’re still trying to find the leak. That is the part that made us look bad.”

  I hadn’t told them about Billie, and now that I knew about her, I was protective, but at the same time, I couldn’t hide what I knew.

  “There was no leak on our part. It was one of the residents of the Winsor Estate who told the Chronicle. They told them after we issued the notice.” That was as much as I’d say. They didn’t have to know that it was Billie’s Mom, or about my little game with Billie.

  Dad immediately looked annoyed.

  “Shit.”

  “Yes. It is shit. Because we should have released the location to the public in a better way.”

  “I told you we had plans to do that.”

  “Right.” It was all a ridiculous mess in my eyes.

  “Okay, and what became of yesterday?”

  “I’ve decided to liaise with the Chronicle.”

  Dad frowned. “Chad, just because the resident informed the Chronicle doesn’t mean we have to deal with them. The Times would be a much better newspaper to handle any affairs relat
ing to us.”

  Here was where I had to be clever. “The Times called us a bunch of bigots, Dad. I will not let our name be tarnished any more than it already has. This was all done wrong. The way we executed this project was all wrong.”

  And it was down to Dad’s trust in Patrick.

  “Okay, I agree on that front, but I don’t want any unnecessary delays. What are you doing, Chad? Why can’t we move forward with planning now that we agreed to a three-month notice for the residents? That is plenty.”

  Like hell it was.

  “Dad, if my name is involved in this, I want to make sure everything is done properly. You would have given the planning and commission team at least a month to look over the proposals. I need close to the same.”

  I needed that. I needed time because if I didn’t have time, I knew things could go south for both me and the company. I couldn’t allow fucking Patrick to take control. I’d put too much into building my career here to allow that to happen. And I wouldn’t allow him and his ass-backwards ideas to ruin everything.

  “One month, Chad? Jesus Christ,” Patrick balked, eyes blazing. “I don’t think I need to remind the two of you what’s at stake here.”

  “A month is too long,” Dad said.

  “I need a month,” I insisted.

  “This another disagreement?”

  “I don’t want to disagree,” I shot back.

  “You’re fucking kidding me.” Patrick balled his fists. “Dad, find a damn way to vote Chad out of the company for messing us around like we’re a bunch of idiots. Clearly, he’s incapable of making decisions for the benefit of the company. Think of the money we’re about to lose.”

  His eyes…

  The deathly look in his eyes grabbed my attention. Over the years, Patrick and I had always been at each other’s throats, but he’d never looked like he was going to kill me before.

  It made me more suspicious. And now, I was starting to suspect the problem lay more with Patrick.

  It was in his behavior. It was odd.

  “Patrick, leave me with your brother.”

  Patrick gave us both a hardened expression, breathed a sigh of frustration, and marched out of the office, slamming the door.

  “Chad, what is the matter with you? Someone of your expertise doesn’t need a month to look over planning details for a straightforward project. It’s simple. We demolish the area and build the luxury apartments.”

  “Think of the impact, Dad. The people there are some of the poorest in the community. I am thinking of all the money we stand to make, but what about what we stand to lose? There has to be a way of doing this better. The Times called us bigots, and that wasn’t the only paper that ripped into us. How would you feel if our investors started pulling out and other bad things we don’t want started happening?”

  I couldn’t believe I had to point this out to him. It was obvious that we opened ourselves up to all manner of risks.

  “You get three weeks including this week, so you have two and a half weeks.” He released a slow breath. “That’s it, Chad. This is Patrick’s idea, and you won’t sabotage it. Don’t make me choose sides. If I have to, it won’t bode well for you. Your problem is the same as your mother’s. You’re not a team player or a leader. You defy authority, and you pick at everything you see. It’s reckless and unprofessional.”

  I couldn’t pretend it didn’t hurt me to hear him say that.

  “I’m not sabotaging anything.” I ignored everything else he’d said. I had to.

  “Then you’re undercutting this. Voting rights are for more important things. You using them like this has reminded me exactly why I hate that your grandfather split the company between the three of us in the manner in which he did. It leaves me powerless. But… only to a certain extent. Two and a half weeks, Chad, and if you don’t agree, there will be consequences. When I retire, I want the two of you running the company. It’s up to you to determine in what capacity that will be.”

  That was loud and clear. Definitely received.

  “Okay. Two and a half weeks.” Fuck. It felt like I’d already lost.

  Being suspicious of something and finding what that something was when my own future was at stake was a bitch.

  Dad arched his brows, signaling the discussion was over.

  I got up and left.

  “Hey,” Patrick called out from the corner of the corridor. Looked like he was waiting for me.

  “What?”

  “Watch it, Chad. You mess this up for me, and you won’t like it.”

  A threat. He’d never threatened me before.

  I didn’t bother to answer him. I headed back to my office and called Maurice.

  An idea was already forming in my mind.

  Maurice answered on the first ring. “What’s up? How’d your meeting go?”

  “I need you to do some background work. Something’s not right. Look up Patrick’s dealings over the last few months.”

  “Jesus Christ, Chad. You’ve only been back for a few days, and already you have me digging around. What the hell happened?”

  “Tell you later. Just do what you can.”

  “What am I looking for?”

  “I don’t know. Just whatever relates to the project.”

  “It’s that deep?”

  “I don’t know yet.”

  Gut instinct was what I was going on. It had never let me down.

  I had a lot at stake here, but no way was I going to look like an asshole, and definitely not to the woman I was interested in.

  “All this for a girl? You know you could just agree with your dad and Patrick, and it’ll be smooth sailing for you.” He chuckled.

  All this for a girl.

  Probably.

  I had to laugh. I couldn’t lie and say there was no influence from Billie, and I barely knew her. I barely knew her and wanted to know more.

  “There’s a lot going on here, Maurice, and Dad thinks the sun shines out of Patrick’s ass. I can assure you, if this were the reverse, he’d be on my ass.”

  “Okay. You know I got your back.”

  I was grateful.

  At least someone did.

  Chapter 7

  Billie

  * * *

  What a long but good day.

  And yet there was more to come before the day ended.

  It was probably stupid of me to be thinking of my hypothetical date with Chad in a few hours, but I couldn’t help myself. It was there in my mind, and I foolishly gave in to my silly girlie feelings and bought a dress on my lunch break.

  The boutique near the office had changed the visuals in their window to a summer theme, and I’d seen the dress on the way to work.

  It was beige with tiny straps on the shoulders and a great A-line that I knew would look great on me. And it was on sale with their summer sale.

  I couldn’t resist. It called to me.

  “I’m going to grab dinner,” Mom said on the phone. God, I’d forgotten I was talking to her. I’d zoned out again in a daydream. Although to be fair, I’d spoken to her five times today. And I’d spoken to her last night too, before I went to bed to tell her that Arnauds was adjusting the notice period to three months.

  I’d felt her joy from here.

  Today was just me checking in on her because the last few days had taken its toll on her.

  “Good. You need to eat. You look frail, and that is never good.”

  “Don’t worry about me. You’ve been a massive strength over the last few days. You’re the best, Billie.”

  “Thanks, Mom.”

  “Good night, sweetheart.”

  “Mom, it’s just gone six.” I laughed.

  “Yeah, but I might go to sleep straight after I’ve eaten. Didn’t sleep much over the last few days.”

  “You know I’ll always take care of you.”

  “I know, but you shouldn’t have to. I want you to live your own life, not get stuck taking care of me.”

  I knew that was h
er worry. It was the cause of her distress.

  “Mom, don’t worry about that, please.”

  “Okay, sweet dreams, sweet girl.” She yawned.

  “Thanks, you too.”

  Zoila walked into the sitting room with a big smile on her face when I hung up. She brought out her nail box that was so filled with nail polish it couldn’t even close.

  I’d told her about Chad, and my crazy best friend took that to mean I was going on an actual date.

  She’d helped me curl my hair after we got home from work, insisting that the dress required curls.

  I had half an hour to get ready, and it looked like I’d be spending it on nails, not going over the questions I had for Chad like I should have.

  “Zoila. I can’t do my nails now. I need to run through my questions. The man is impossible, and I want to get what I need to get done tonight.”

  “Screw questions, chica. You’re missing the point. You’re going to dinner with a deadly handsome billionaire who’s into you.”

  “It’s a business meeting.” I tucked a lock of my hair behind my ear, and the curly ends tickled my jaw. It was a shorter lock where my hair had been feathered to give my face a sharper look.

  “It’s dinner.” Her wild brown eyes beamed at me. “It’s a date.”

  “It’s not a date. Seriously, it’s a business meeting.” That was the same thing I’d told Miranda, except I’d left out the part where I was meeting with Chad late at night, like we really were going out on a date. I’d told her after work hours were the only times he could meet with me.

  Of course, I looked like I was going above and beyond myself to achieve my goals and get the story, but I felt guilty because I enjoyed his company.

  Luckily, Miranda had been so ecstatic about us getting the story for today and being chosen to be Arnauds’ go-to paper that I doubted she would have cared how I went about getting the work done.

  “I’m calling it a date. I don’t care. You look beautiful in that dress, and you’re meeting a truly delicious man. Humor me. Nails, please?”